


Tremors

by chinesebakery



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Daisy and Mack BrOTP, Gen, Isolation, Mentions of Ward, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Not entirely compliant with The Singularity, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6678004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No longer posessed, Daisy returns to the base, hoping to make amends and rebuild her life from the ground up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tremors

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks once more to agencalliope for beta-reading.

Daisy's head was throbbing again– which each heartbeat it burned a little hotter. The pounding headache centered at the top of her head, where evil alien parasites had claimed residence inside her brain, dismantling everything good in her life and leaving an infuriating phantom pain in its wake.

Had it really only been  days since she'd deserted the base as a cloud of dust and cement crumbs rose behind her? It felt like eons. Entire eras of her life starting and ending at breakneck speed. Daisy Johnson: Team Leader. Supervillain Puppet. Destitute.

Walking down the now dimlit hallway that led to the Director's office, she wondered if there even was another chapter in her storyline. How do you came back from serving as right hand to your sworn enemy? How many nights wasted hovering between the shame of her feeble mind to stop it, and absolute and raw anger at what had been done to her?

As she reached her destination, Daisy was left to face more tangible proofs of the destruction she had lashed on the base. Beneath the cracked ceiling, the shattered glass partitions had been replaced with cardboard dividers, which did very little to ensure the confidentiality of Coulson's communications.

Daisy paused when she heard Coulson's voice rise from the other side a moment before her raised hand made contact with the temporary door.

"I think there's another option we should discuss," he said, his tone both contentious and exhausted. 

There was a pause, then, "Phil, no."

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it," Coulson replied, daring May to contradict him.

"You can't delete every bad memory," Melinda countered somberly. "You can't erase the past just because you don't like it."

T.A.H.I.T.I. That's what they were talking about. Sawing her skull open and meddling with her brain until it was rearranged and cauterized in a more convenient way. After all, they'd done it to her father. They might even have extended the favor to her mother, if they'd managed to catch her alive. What if it ran in the family? What could you possibly expect from the daughter of two inhuman monsters, if not more monstrosity? 

Perhaps that's why she'd been chosen to stand by Hive's side. Why she and Grant Ward had been so close in the first place. What if, underneath it all, they were both bad blood?

_ No _ , she reminded herself before she crumbled once more.

_ It wasn't you it wasn't you it wasn't you it wasn't you. _

***

Through the half-open door, she could see Fitz sitting on his bed, his head tilted backwards. Jemma, perched on her knees by his side, was cautiously spreading ointment on the large bruises that adorned his neck as he audibly winced. Repeatedly.  

Some of her memories of her time as Hive's best pal were fuzzy, but the expression on Fitz's face as he begged for mercy and the sound of Jemma's strangled cried were quite clear in her mind. She relived the scene every night as she laid awake in bed.

When Fitz raised his head and Daisy got a better view of the purplish tones of his skin, she couldn't help but gasp and it drew both of their attention to her presence.

"Sorry," Daisy muttered, forcing the ghost of a smile. "I didn't mean to interrupt– anything. I can come back…"

Fitz glanced at Jemma who narrowed her eyes, her back noticeably tensing. Daisy stood at the doorway, looking into the room awkwardly while the two engaged in a lengthy silent conversation that involved raised eyebrows, tilted chins and meaningful nods. In other circumstances, Daisy would have been delighted to be a direct witness to their renewed link. 

"No, it's alright," Fitz finally replied, sending Jemma another significant look, his tone definite and a little defiant. "You can come in."

Daisy let out a breath and stepped over the threshold towards him. 

"I probably should–" Jemma gestured to the door, raising to her feet, before Fitz caught her hand.

"No. Stay," he said with another pointed nod, to which Jemma relented, sitting down stiffly next to him.

"Okay," Daisy nodded, exhaling and lowering her eyes. Grabbing Fitz's desk chair, she maneuvered it until it was facing the bed where Fitz and Jemma sat  practically joined at the hip. Fitz's hand rested on Jemma's knee in a manner that seemed more placating than affectionate, and Daisy’s heart thudded within her chest.

"I realize that I haven't formally apologized… well, to anyone I guess... but especially to  _ you _ ." Daisy said, searching Fitz's face for a trace of– something. Anything. Pity? Rage? Hatred? What did she expect him to feel for her now, after what she  _ did _ ? 

Daisy's eyes fell to his wounded neck again and she stared in horrified fascination. She'd done that. She remembered doing it, could almost feel it still, the thrill of dominance. Until that moment when she'd almost killed Fitz –just a little longer and she would have snapped his neck, or even severed his head, maybe– she'd  _ liked _ it. And even as she did it, a part of her liked it, still. 

How could she not? Her body pulsed with raw power. There was no more struggling for control, no taming all her untapped potential or turning it against herself as she'd had once in the early days, when she had shattered her own bones. It had felt so  _ vital _ .

Daisy shook her head and finally wrestled her eyes away from his bruises, shifting them to a spot on the floor. That strength had not been  _ her _ strength. She had not belonged to herself anymore. 

Hive's dominion of her was still something she strived to comprehend. On the moment, it was so organic, his will was her will, there was no line between where he ended and where she began. Even as she hurt someone she loved –someone who'd stood by her when no one would, her sole support during her transition– she wasn't a spectator of her own actions. She was feeling it, living it, wanting it even more than she loathed it.

  
When she had finally regained control over her own actions, her body, and her  _ life,  _ Daisy had felt like she was waking up from a ghoulish nightmare only to find that the world had changed overnight, and the nightmare hadn't been so bad after all.

"You don't need to apologize," Fitz said calmly and almost serenely. "We know you couldn't do a thing to stop it. We've seen the parasites– we've studied them, even. Whatever happened then..." Fitz made a dismissive gesture, shaking his head gingerly. "Hive did it. And he's dead now, so, we're good. Aren't we?"

"Yeah," Daisy shakingly breathed out and nodded, her smile quivering as she felt tears well in her eyes. 

Next to Fitz, Jemma was  staring pointedly at her own shoes.  

"Uh, Jemma?" Daisy said with a hopefulness she hadn't felt moments before. "Are  _ we _ okay?"

"I know it wasn't _you_." Jemma stated, sounding a little glum. "I understand that, I do. But I still had to watch you– _your body_ – almost…" She heaved a long, calming sigh. "I nearly lost him. Again. I’ve nearly lost him _way too many times_ and I'm getting a little sick of it." Jemma smiled sadly, pausing to gather her thoughts. "I think– I need a little time?"

"Oh. Of course. Yeah. Totally." Daisy aimed her frown at the floor again, reminding herself she had no right to be disappointed.

"I'm sorry," Jemma said unhappily, "I don't– I don't blame  _ you _ . I swear. I just have a hard time… Remembering you're you again."

"Right. Okay. I'll, uh, leave you to it," Daisy finished lamely before she stood up and walked out the room without glancing back.

***

"You okay, Tremors?"

Mack's head appeared in the crack of her bedroom doors, both eyebrows raised and sporting a concerned smile. Daisy had spent the last half hour slumped on her bed, wondering once more if she would be better off packing her things and taking off without looking back. It would be better for everyone, and she could totally live in a motorized vehicle again. It would be an adjustment at first, but–

"Daisy?" Mack's voice sounded again, a little concerned, this time.

"Uh, yeah. Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Daisy asked with a bitter smirk, although it did nothing to hide her trembling voice.

"Right. Never better, yeah?" He stepped in a closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he surveyed her face.

"I just wanted to remind you that I've been there, Daisy," he said gravely, his silhouette towering even from the other side of the room. "If you ever want to talk about it, or–"

"Right. You've been there," she repeated, straightening her stand and air quoting the words with her index and middle fingers.

"Actually, yeah," he insisted. He walked to the bed and slumped beside her, bumping his elbows against hers. "Remember my Hound of Hell phase?"

"Oh," Daisy said, her eyes widening. "Right. I forgot."

"Yeah, not my finest hour," Mack conceded with a shrug. "I still have nightmares about it."

"Really?" She asked, clearly disbelieving.

"Yep. Quite often, actually. Except…" Mack let his head fall back, addressing the ceiling. "It doesn't exactly  _ feel _ like nightmares."

Daisy kept quiet, averting her eyes self-consciously, afraid she understood only too well. The nightmares, the flashbacks– they didn't felt  _ bad _ , exactly.

"The moment I snapped out of it, I was– well, horrified, I guess." Mack's gigantic shoulders dipped. "But in the moment? I felt invincible. All force and intent and purpose. Know what I mean?" 

Daisy nodded silently. She knew  _ all _ about that.

"But that's not relevant. The important thing is that it wasn't  _ me _ . They all knew that. And they all got over it. They will for you too. The hard part isn't earning  _ their _ forgiveness."

"I think I see where you're going with this, Dr. Freud," she mumbled with a half-smile.

"Yeah?" Mack rose his eyebrows, daringly. "Well, you better believe it."

"Oh, no, is this the part where you hand me the check for a zillion dollars?" Daisy grinned her first genuine smile since she'd moved back into SHIELD's headquarters.

Mack elbowed her again, a chuckle escaping him before he sobered up.

"And if it gets a bit much? Stop by my room and I'll crush you at Halo.  _ Again _ . It’ll get your mind off things."

"Somehow, not how I expected Sigmund to handle long lasting trauma. What, not  _ one _ mention of penis envy? Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Ha. Ha. Funny. A little update's in order, if you ask me," Mack stated as he rose to his feet. Daisy watched him walk to the door, clinging to the lighter mood he'd brought her, afraid it might dissipate the moment he walked out the door.

"Hey,  _ Alfie _ ," she called out, biting her lip. "You busy? I wouldn't mind playing a little right now."

Mack smiled and tilted his head in invitation.

“I’m never too busy to thrash you, Tremors."


End file.
